Primordial
by Hawki
Summary: What compelled humanity to attack our Ecumene? I suspect in part, it was due to their very nature. But something drove them. Spurred them. And for the sake of every Forerunner who fell, for the sake of the Mantle, I will leave no stone unturned. Humanity's savagery shall not go unanswered. And answers, are what I shall find.
1. Prologue: Shallows

**Halo: Primordial**

**Prologue: Shallows**

_Silence fills my prison, a prison without bars. Yet defeated are my jailers, their blood is strewn across the stars._

It talks to me, its voice speaking my language flawlessly, its sound coming from everywhere in the chamber bar the creature itself. Or to itself. Or to neither. But I step forward. Alone, but armed. Not adversarial, but still armoured.

_Child of my makers, brother to your foes. Here you stand before me, flesh beneath this stone._

"My foes are not my brothers," I say. "You are alone. They cannot help you."

_Your words cast out the silence, yet your voice betrays your mind. Beneath this world you've ventured, yet no salvation you will find._

"I do not need salvation. My people do not need salvation. And it is only thanks to our mercy that your former captors stand a chance of salvation."

It doesn't answer this time. It…lies there. It does not "stand." It has legs, but does not need them. It has arms, but does not use them.

Is it afraid, I wonder? With a word I could destroy it. With only slightly more words, I could destroy this entire planet, to torch more than just the cities of those who did us harm. Indeed, part of me does not know why I am here.

_Answers you have sought my foe, will they replace your lies? Will truth replace your falsehoods, or with me will the truth die?_

"I have come for answers," I say. "If you give them to me, you may live. If not, you will see our mercy only extends so far."

_Mercy you denied us once, but still a tale I shall tell. It begins upon this world you stand, yet long before it fell._

I stand firm. I am ready to hear it. Whether I believe it is another matter. But I owe it to my people to listen.

A thousand years ago, this creature's jailers went to war with us. For at least a thousand years, they kept this creature. For a thousand years, both our peoples fought, and bled, and died. And if this creature can provide insight into the reason, then I will take it. So I will endure its voice. Endure its defiance. Endure everything. After all that has happened, after all I have lost, I can endure this much more.

_Of a thousand years ago I speak, it's where this tale begins. Listen well, my makers' child, and reflect upon your sins…_

* * *

_A/N_

**_Note (21/09/13): Below is preserved text from my original take on the story. I will give forewarning that this story is not canonically accurate due to timeframe inconsistencies . I will address this again in the epilogue._**

_Bit of a story behind this...story. Anyway, it's better summarized on my homepage, but suffice to say, the original concept for this occurred 6-7 years ago with _Diary of a Forerunner_, inspired by the 'leaked' _Halo 3 _script. Ended up with that story being taken down in part only due to said script being fake, me using the format for _Shadow Blade _(which was also rendered null by canon), and having since found the original _Diary of a Forerunner _story again, I've converted the story to fit current canon.__..in all its "why 343, why?!" glory.  
_

_Snark. It's a human thing. :)_

_Update (18/07/13): Altered lines as per feedback._


	2. Trickle

_On Charum Hakkor, I begin my tale,_

_The beginning of the end._

_When humans still had allies,_

_Those they once called friends._

**Halo: Primordial**

**Chapter 1: Trickle**

Akaash Ranjan hated teleportation.

Technically it was slipspace translocation, but being a scientist in the field of medicine, he was willing to leave the technicalities to people who cared about them. It looked like teleportation, it sounded like teleportation, and every time he emerged at his destination, it sure as the Glow _felt _like teleportation. So that was what he called it. And when a voice echoed throughout the chamber that the "slipspace translocation" was complete, he cursed under his breath.

**Occupant may now step down from the platform.**

He did so, not glancing back as the arms closed in on the portal, collapsing it back to a sub-atomic level to where it would dissipate. His eyes meanwhile glanced around the chamber as a whole. It was large, drab, and bereft of life. The only exceptions were a hatch on the far side of the room and a window that looked out into space.

"Hello?" he called out.

There was no answer. Some hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, but he kept moving, headed for the window. He knew what his destination was, or what it was meant to be. And looking out into the void of space, and the spherical object below, it was confirmed.

Charum Hakkor.

Akaash glanced around, wondering if he should just go ahead and exit the chamber. But he remained in place, unmoving. Just as surely as the world below was unmoving. True, it orbited its sun, which orbited the galaxy, which engaged in the same celestial dance as all children of the Great Moment of Creation. But the laws of gravity aside, Charum Hakkor would remain in place. Eternal. Unchanging. He watched as ships came and went, holes into slipspace opening and closing all around the world and throughout the entire system. He made out the orbital arches of the Precursors, their chosen children's cities winding their way up them. Ever higher. Ever closer to gods. A testament to Man and the Mantle.

"I take it you enjoy the view."

And not a testament that Akaash could afford to keep looking at. For turning his gaze away from the capital of Man, he saw the one who had approached him. Alien, but still an ally. Below humanity, but still useful.

"Irt Azhaar," she said, holding up the palm of your hand in greeting. "Colleague. Friend, maybe. Acquaintance, certainly, for we cannot operate without such a level of continuation."

"I'm sure," Akaash murmured, trying to mimic the visitor's finger positions and failing. It was bad enough that the height difference allowed Irt to look down on him, but already he was showing his physical limitations.

He had to hand it to the san 'shyuum – they knew how to play their slates.

Akaash silently followed as Irt walked towards the door from which she'd entered the chamber. The door opened and out came a trio of micro-drones, flying back to his point of entry and enacting what looked like decontamination procedures. Either the lord and master of this space station was taking such protocols to the extreme, or he (or she) had a much lower opinion of him than what Irt did.

"Was your trip pleasant?" she asked.

"Fine," he lied.

"I know that Yprin Yprikushma selected your personally," the alien continued, the pair now walking down a narrow corridor that was flanked by even more micro-drones. "That she has a high opinion of your abilities."

"I do what I can," Akaash murmured. He enjoyed praise, but not when it was so calculated. So cold. Not when a san 'shyuum stretched her neck back and stared at him with those large brown eyes surrounded by olive skin.

"And will you do it?" Irt asked. "Did you choose to? Did you want to? Is it duty that compels you, or personal interest?"

"I, um…"

"Ah, I see. You don't know yet."

"Know what?"

"What's going on," Irt said, turning her head back around and continuing to walk. "Well, it doesn't matter. If you weren't trusted on the surface, then I can only assume that she wanted Apostle Upernavik to tell you."

"Who?"

"And either you are not as good at keeping secrets as I might have hoped, or you have poor memory."

And the san 'shyuum kept walking. Moving through the corridor, Akaash glanced back at the world below. Unchanging. Eternal. And right now, a place he'd rather be.

After all, Charum Hakkor was his home. His birthworld. He'd gone from one side of the Orion Arm to the other, but he always ended up back here. That was where he was found. Where he was briefed. Where he was told to report to the Administrative Centre three days after initial notification and embark on an assignment that was top secret, suited to his skills, and if he pulled through, would come with great reward. That he'd be working with a non-human hadn't been mentioned at all. San 'shyuum were at least civilized, which was more than he could say for most of the races of the galaxy, but were still company he preferred not to keep.

"We're here."

But for now, he'd be keeping her company. For now, he'd be playing second string. Or third. Because in this chamber, smaller than the first but surrounded by lights and screens made out of said light, he could see they weren't alone.

"Apostle Upernavik to see her."

Akaash walked over to him. And then stopped.

"Oh, don't worry about staring, everyone does," the newcomer said. "I get it, you meet with proverbial gods who like to think themselves akin to literal gods, then you see me. Well, here I am." He stuck out a hand. "Apostle Upernavik. And you're at my service."

Akaash knelt down and shook it, finding the grip to not be firm. Fitting, considering it was the grip of a Florian.

"Well then," Upernavik said. "Down to business." He sniggered. "Heh. Down."

Akaash smirked. Irt glanced at him and then glanced away, muttering something in her naked tongue that involved the word "hamanune" a lot. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, Akaash thought. Upernavik seemed decent, possessing curly brown hair and a pudgy, almost child-like face (even by Florian standards) – a much more welcoming visage and persona than what Irt had provided so far.

"So, come on then," the apostle said. "Don't dawdle. The gods have given us the short end of the stick, we've got to make it longer."

And he seemed to fall into the camp of denominations who treated the Precursors as literal gods, Akaash noted. Not that that was a problem, he supposed.

"So," Upernavik continued, coming to another glass window but this time, overlooking an interior chamber. "I see you've met Irt." He glanced up at her, and Akaash was briefly reminded of a child who wanted to look up his mother's dress. "Specialist in cellular regeneration, aimed to unlock the secrets of immortality."

Akaash snorted. Irt glared at him.

"And you, my boy, are one of our top minds," Upernavik said, turning his gaze to the haramune. "General biology, only real specialization being in cross-species genetics. Reproduction, infection, assimilation…"

Akaash nodded. It was true. But he failed to see the connection. San 'shyuum had been searching for the secret to immortality long before humanity ever made contact with them. And while it was true that he was something of a specialist on how alien biology could interact with that of humans, it wasn't out of any great interest or love. It was a human galaxy that, Precursors willing, had put humans first. And even if some species didn't accept that, they had to learn their place. Even san 'shyuum. Even Forerunners.

"So I assume that your knowledge of biology extends to non-sapient species," Upernavik continued.

Akaash opened his mouth to answer.

"Good. So you know what a pheru looks like."

Akaash did, but as a hatch opened in the chamber below, he was presented with one anyway. He glanced at Upernavik.

"A pheru? You brought me here to study _pets_?"

"No, I brought you here because what you're seeing is but one part of what you're going to study," Upernavik said. He glared at Akaash, all warmth in his eyes gone. "And you'll let me speak."

"Is this necessary?" Irt whispered. "I've seen this. I don't-"

"You'll watch it."

Irt cursed in her native tongue. Akaash raised an eyebrow. But he let the Florian speak anyway.

"Pets," the apostle said. "Altered through artificial means via a type of powder over the last few centuries. Selective breeding, nothing that we haven't done before."

Akaash watched the pheru below. It sniffed the floor. It glanced up at the window. Akaash stared back.

"The pheru before you is original stock," Upernavik said. "Unaltered. Bred in the depths of Edom, imported here for this demonstration."

"Demonstration?"

Upernavik grimaced. Akaash saw Irt bite her lip. Down in the chamber, a second hatch opened. And…_something _came charging out of it. Another pheru. But larger. Greener. With organic growth and tentacles extending from its body.

The first pheru didn't stand a chance.

"Watch it," Upernavik said, grabbing Akaash's hand and glaring at him, meeting his gaze and directing it back to the window. "Watch what happens when a pheru that's been exposed to the…substance comes into contact."

It was first contact of the violent kind. The type of contact that involved a lot of blood, guts, and mangled fur. It didn't last long. But the corpse remained.

"It's an infection," said Upernavik gravely. "The pheru have been infected by the same substance we used to alter them. A substance that not even I know where it came from, but I wish to the gods we never found."

"Then why…do you need…me?" Akaash breathed.

Upernavik glanced at Irt. "Show him."

The san 'shyuum extended a palm of her hand. A hologram shone through the skin, courtesy of an implant. It showed a san 'shyuum lying on a bed, its flesh mottled and green. Almost like the second pheru.

"This disease has crossed the species barrier," Irt said. "We don't know how, or when, or how many worlds this poses a risk to. Virtually every pheru has been altered by the powder, but not every one of them is infectious." She deactivated the hologram. "That's why you're here, Apostle Ranjan. Cross-species infection."

"But, can't we just-"

"No, we're not going to spark panic, or eradicate every pheru," Upernavik said. "We're going to keep doing what we're always doing. Study. Develop a cure. Save more lives before this…trickle…becomes a flood."

"But I-"

"And it's infected humans too," Upernavik said. "Not something that anyone would ever be trusted with on Charum Hakkor's surface." He sighed. "It seems that the powers that be didn't trust you with anything."

Akaash watched as Upernavik pressed a button on his suit. Down in the chamber, a trio of micro-drones descended from above, zapping the infected pheru back into its pen. It briefly glanced at Akaash, making eye contact, before giving a hiss of rage and scuttling along. Simultaniously, another trio of drones arrived and incinerated the corpse of its uninfected counterpart.

"If this is so infectious…" Akaash began. "Why are we researching it above our capital world?"

"Ease of control," Upernavik said. "And don't worry. If there's even the slightest chance of a containment breach, the facility will enter subspace, where it will be torn apart by an in-built neutron bomb. And if for some reason it can't do that, the neutron bomb will detonate anyway, collateral damage be damned."

"And if it doesn't do that?"

"Then a fleet of ships arrives, and blasts us to oblivion." The Florian smirked. "Which, believe it or not, is the far more merciful option than leaving us to the alternative."

Akaash looked down at the chamber. At the blood splatters that the micro-drones had yet to remove.

All things considered, it was an alternative he didn't want to experience.


	3. Stream

_They gave voice to their destruction,_

_But its voice eclipsed their own._

_That which drove their actions,_

_And drove them from their homes._

**Halo: Primordial**

**Chapter 2: Stream**

"We're calling it the Tide."

The meeting had only just begun, yet Akaash was already drifting off. He didn't care that that Upernavik was talking, the Florian just as commanding as he had been fifteen years ago. He didn't care that Irt was giving him a look of condescension, or that humanity's best and brightest, Forthencho and Yprin Yprikushma included, were here. All he cared about was that it felt like fifteen years since he'd last slept, and dietary supplements could only keep him going for so long.

"The Tide?" Yprin asked. "Why 'the Tide?'"

_Because it comes and goes, sometimes going with the river, sometimes defying it._

"Because it comes and goes, sometimes going with the river, sometimes defying it," Upernavik answered.

_Told you._

"Bit melodramatic, isn't it?" asked Manush, an apostle all the way from Sankrata. "Usually I'd go with a more formal name."

"If you want the formal name it's in your slates," Upernavik snapped. "But I'm calling it the Tide, and quite frankly, I shouldn't have to explain this to you."

"Rich," Forthencho murmured. "But then explain to us why after fifteen years, no progress has been made."

Akaash had to hand it to Upernavik – he might have been two meters shorter than the lord of admirals, and small enough for said lord to break his neck with a single thumb, but he still sat there in his high chair. Meeting his gaze. Staring down-"

"Apostle Ranjan, perhaps _you _can tell us about this…Tide."

_Crap._

Akaash shot upright, his elbow falling off the table. Irt let out a clicking sound that he'd learnt was the human equivalent of a snort.

"Are we boring you?" Yprin asked, leaning forward. "I can send you back to Charum Hakkor if you want."

_I'd like that._

"Well?"

"Not until my task is done," Akaash said, causing some of his fellow apostles to roll their eyes. The number of experts working on the Tide had increased exponentially over the last fifteen years, just as much as the Tide's spread itself had. Regardless, he got to his feet and walked over to the window that looked out into space from the table. Clicking his fingers, a hologram was superimposed over it, displaying facts and figures.

"The Tide," he said, "is what we're calling this pathogen. I say pathogen because it's defying any kind of classification

"Explain," said Manush.

Akaash manipulated the hologram to show cell replication. "This is an image of a Tide super cell, see subject one-six-three for reference. Basic mitosis akin to bacteria. Enters a living organism, replicates, brings harm to the organism."

He altered the hologram again, this time showing images of two gene sequences. One human, one san'shyuum. Both were being consumed.

"This is representative of DNA and RNA alteration of subjects six-two-six and two-five-nine respectively. Their genetic material is being altered to suit the pathogen."

The hologram changed again. It showed a pheru.

"And yet, it arguably bears resemblance to a parasite as well, at least in the pheru. Manipulation of the host's behaviour to further spread the pathogen." He looked back at the group. "That's what we're dealing with. What everyone is dealing with."

"And what, after fifteen years, you have yet to deal with."

The words came from Forthencho himself. Akaash tried to meet his gaze. Unlike Upernavik, he only lasted a few seconds.

It was Irt's turn to rise. For once, he was happy to hear her voice.

"You want solutions, I understand," she said. "My people are also suffering from this. The Tide was capable of crossing the species barrier, and we've set to see a single sentient species capable of resisting infection."

"Excuse me, if I may?" said one of the visitors, a Denisovan named L'kar. "But it seems to me that we're making too much of a fuss of this."

The scientists stared at him.

"Think about it. We know this originated with the pheru. They're its initial vector. However this spreads, its symptoms are clear. All we have to do is enforce complete isolation, separate contagions into their respective sectors, and deal with them as they crop up."

"No."

It was Forthencho who spoke. And it was Upernavik who spoke next.

"Negativity, I like that," he said. "Tell me, why are you even here? This is an issue of health, not a military one."

"If you believe that, you're a fool," Forthencho said.

"Then enlighten me."

"Fine," he said. He walked over to the holographic slate, holding up his hand. A light flashed within the flesh, and the image changed to show a cargo ship heading towards a verdant world. It was heavily damaged, and warships were pursuing it.

"This occurred over M'tesis," the lord of admirals said. "A cargo ship, all its crew infected by a single pheru they were transporting."

"I thought we banned their export," murmured L'kar.

"We did, but demand remains, and when there's demand, people will do whatever they want if there's something in it for them." Forthencho sighed. "But that doesn't bother me. What _does _bother me was that when customs ships arrived, scanners indicated the loss of all hands. Bio-signs dead."

"So?" L'kar asked.

"So it's quite odd that they'd turn the ship back towards M'tesis, its trajectory being its capital city. And I think it's quite odd that after fifteen years of sickly, dying humans and other creatures, images recovered from the ship's astro-recorder showed this."

The image changed. Gasps and curses rang out through the room. Akaash included.

They were undoubtedly infected by the Tide. But these were different. So far, every human, san 'shyuum, and other alien had been incapacitated bar the pheru. But these were different. They were upright. Warped. Mottled. Clawed. Dangerous. And clearly intelligent enough to fly a starship. At least until it was reduced to debris by the warships surrounding it.

"This is the tactic of invasion," Forthencho said. "Your Tide has got enough brains to take over a ship and try to spread from a civilian population centre. So yes, this is military."

"But not a solution," Upernavik said. "What are you going to do, purify every world the infection has touched?"

"If that solves the problem, yes."

Shouts echoed throughout the chamber. Finger pointing, name calling, accusations, declarations, everything under Charrum Hakkor's sun. Akaash sunk into his seat. Irt rested her face in her hands. Forthencho and Upernavik looked like they were about to come to blows.

"**Enough!"**

And might have if not for Yprin's voice. She glared at those assembled around her. Slowly, they returned to their seats.

"This is pointless," she murmured. "This bickering, these solutions, they aren't mutually exclusive."

"They are," Upernavik protested. "We're trying to save lives, not eradicate them."

"And so far, you've failed," Forthencho pointed out. "Curing this disease has failed. It's spreading. What happens if it spreads outside our space? What if it's already done so?"

"So what?" Akaash asked. "If it infects aliens, who cares?" Irt glanced at him. "Besides the san 'shyuum of course.

"At best, we'd be dealing with enemy strongholds. At worst, it could enter Forerunner space."

"What?" Yprin asked.

"If a pathogen from our space enters theirs, what then?" Forthencho asked. "An attack, an excuse, however those bigots see it, they have the reason to enter our territory to deal with it. There's no way to survive a war from without or within."

"And even if it remains within," said Magnon, a Neanderthal and aide to Forthencho, "if the Forerunners see us as weak, they could think us destabilized enough to annex our territory."

"Would it come to that?" Akaash asked.

"The Forerunners are bigots who think the Mantle theirs, who think themselves better than ourselves, and think they're the apex species of the galaxy."

"So what's the difference between you and them then?" Irt murmured.

If anyone besides Akaash heard her, they didn't show it. He glanced at her. She glanced back. Then they both glanced at Yprin.

"I want projections," she said eventually. "Infection rates, number of infected, dispersion." She turned to Upernavik. "If you don't have that data now, coordinate with all our other research stations and get them to me within the interval."

"That's not solving the problem," Forthencho protested.

"No, but it might help. So our finest minds here will do their work. You, on the other hand, are going to help enforce containment."

Upernavik went to speak but was cut off.

"And when I say containment, I mean containment. Keep it where it is. Don't let it spread. And if it leaves our space, find it, burn it, and anything it comes into contact with. But I don't want human lives sacrificed because it's the easy solution."

"And if it enters Forerunner territory?" Forthencho asked. "What then?"

"Then gods have mercy on you, because rest assured, I won't."

Another silence filled the room. Though Akaash could tell it would last longer. That the meeting was over. And as everyone else rose from their chairs, as conversations were held in the sides of the room, as Upernavik stormed out ahead of everyone, it was an assumption that held true. So in turn, he made his way over to Irt.

"Hey."

She let out a grunt.

"That went well."

"I shouldn't be here." She glanced at him. "I should be with my own people."

"Come on Irt," Akaash protested. "We're all allies in this."

She snorted. "If the jaggermaw scatters the pack, it's every colo for itself."

"Jaggermaws aren't found on Sanghelios."

"Well biology's overrated. Point is, a collapse is nearing. And if we're all going to be…" she shuddered, "_infected_, I want to be with my own people."

Akaash opened his mouth, then closed it. He wanted to protest, that they were still a single alliance, that helping here would help the san 'shyuum too. But he remained silent. Partly because after only being allowed to visit his own homeworld once a year, he could sympathize. And partly because, deep down, he knew she was right.

"Akaash?"

He turned, seeing Yprin before him.

"You hanging in there?"

He shrugged. "Sort of."

"Yes or no," she said. "Trust me, I'll be getting so many 'maybes' in the next interval, it'll be nice to have a distinct answer."

"Well I'm sorry, I can't give it to you," he snapped. He blinked his eyes. "Sorry. I just…"

"No, it's fine," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "We're all fighting the same battle."

"Is it a battle though?" Akaash asked. "I mean, I heard what Forthencho said, but-"

"We're all fighting the same battle. I didn't say you have to worry about every front."

Akaash nodded. Smiling back, Yprin walked past him. He went for his own chair, wanting some rest before he returned to the day's schedule.

"Oh, and Akaash?"

He turned back to face her.

"Talk to Upernavik will you? I respect him, but this disease, I think it needs a better name than 'the Tide.'"

"Sure," Akaash murmured, barely listening and rubbing his eyes. "You're our political and morale commander. You got a name?"

"A few," she said. "But I was thinking of 'the Flood.'"

"Flood? That's a bit melodramatic isn't it?" Akaash asked, though remembering that Manush had said the same thing. "I mean, if it's a river, it's only just started…well, running."

"Maybe," she murmured. She looked around, before heading over. She leant down beside him.

"The problem though," she said, "is that I have my fears that the river is flowing faster than we know…" She stood up straight again. "So it's about time we dammed it, don't you think?"

Akaash nodded. He couldn't disagree with that statement.

Or ignore the threat behind it.

* * *

_A/N_

_Minor note in that ch. 3 will have a bit of a wait behind it, as I'll be down in Canberra from August 1st to the 4th, which covers my usual update period. Expect the next chapter in the week afterwards._


	4. Flood

_Truth's moment was seized at last,_

_That they would regret._

_For the Flood, it had no mercy,_

_A fact they'd not forget._

**Halo: Primordial**

**Chapter 3: Flood**

"You know sometimes…I look in the mirror. And I don't recognise myself anymore."

"I do. You're just as ugly."

Akaash didn't snigger, or smile, or make any motion that indicated amusement. Twenty, even ten years ago, he might have done so. But he couldn't anymore. Not after two decades of work on the same gods-damn space station orbiting the same gods-damn planet, all in an effort to prevent that planet from falling to the same gods-damn parasite that had sprung up in every corner of humanity's empire.

"Huh. You're a bore."

Akaash glared at Irt, standing beside him as they glanced down towards Charum Hakkor. She was a san'shyuum. Blessed with longevity, _she _didn't show any signs of age. _She _didn't have to worry about wrinkles, or facial hair that he'd grown tired of removing, or any of the other things humans did.

"Something wrong?"

And she was incredibly dense as well. So still scowling, Akaash withdrew his gaze and glanced back at the test subjects.

All of them glanced back. Or at least the infected did, though many of them no longer had discernible eyes. All of them were in stasis, a limitless supply of test subjects the station had at their disposal in regards to combating the Flood. All of them unaware of his existence. And yet, staring at them, Akaash couldn't help but wonder if he was being watched in turn.

"Nice, aren't they?" Irt said, walking over to them. She pointed to one of the infected. "See that one? I call him Tag."

"Why?"

"Named after my father. Big. Brutish. Unpleasant to be around."

Akaash snorted. Irt smiled in turn. "Good," she said.

"What is?"

"That. I've been working with you long enough to understand a snort is a sign of humour."

Akaash's smile faded. It was true. And it reminded him of how banal his existence had become that the only humour left to him was pointing out what was actually humorous in the first place. Back in a time when humour was come one, come all. Not a time when every report he read was of more people being infected, of humanity's domain further destabilizing, of Flood spreading to more worlds than they could count.

_Beep beep beep beep._

And of a time when he could look Upernavik in the eye and not feel like he'd failed him. And all humanity.

Akaash ran his pinkie down the centre of his palm, silencing the transponder. As useful as such implants were, a drawback was that there was no escape from them. He glanced at Irt, and she nodded. Another meeting, one where yet again, she wasn't invited. With the human-san'shyuum alliance destabilizing as the domain of the former species crumbled, it seemed that trust was crumbling as well.

"Go on then," Irt said. "I'll just stay here. With Tag. And every other poor sod."

Akaash remained silent. A decade ago, he would have said something. Something that would have demeaned Irt and/or her species. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when humanity was acting like it wanted to be made extinct. Blowing off the san 'shyuum was just part of that suicide pact. Almost as suicidal as actually walking into the meeting room and seeing Upernavik seated at the far end of the table.

"Hello Akaash."

And with Yprin beside him. Unlike the Florian, she was willing to speak.

"Have a seat."

And still give orders.

Grimly, Akaash obeyed, sliding onto his chair like a child coming before a mentor. Yprin remained standing. Upernavik remained seated. The door hissed shut behind him.

"No-one else coming?"

"They'll find out in time," the Florian said. He looked up at Yprin. "Show him."

Yprin extended her palm onto the centre of the table, making a connection. A hologram of a world appeared, one like any other as far as Akaash could tell.

"This is Cordoba," Yprin said. "Or _was _Cordoba."

"What do you mean _was_?" Akaash asked, a tingle spreading down his spine.

"Because this is what Cordoba looks like now."

The image changed. The planet remained the same except where it was once green and verdant, it was now smouldering glasslands. Akaash looked at Yprin.

"Does this mean something?" he asked. "A glassed planet, what of it? We've sterilized worlds before. We've been doing it for the last five years."

"True," Yprin said. "But this is the first time we've carried out the process on a Forerunner world."

The tingle in Akaash's spine became a rush of ice.

"Oh yes," the political and morale commander continued, her grim visage conveying that morale was the last thing she was able to uplift right now. "The Flood reached the Forerunners. A process that twenty years ago, I might have taken a degree of satisfaction from. But no, Forthencho and his ilk decided it was best to burn it, destroy its fleet, and keep pressing into Forerunner territory to sterilize any possible infection site."

Akaash leant back in his seat and put a hand to his head. He kept it there, running it through his hair.

"So then," Yprin said, "in addition to every human that's fallen to the Flood, we've got two billion dead Forerunners to add to the casualty list, and billions more who aren't going to be happy about that." She shut down the hologram. "So, tell me Akaash, what happens now?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It means that we're now going to be fighting a war on two fronts, the Flood within our territory and the Forerunners outside it. It means-"

"No!" Yprin yelled, slamming her hands down on the table and glaring at Akaash with the gaze of a merse. "It means that you're going to give me the solution to my problems, something you should have done years ago! It means you're going to solve our Flood problem so that gods help me, I can find a way to ensure the Forerunners don't wipe us out!"

Akaash glared back. A moment ago, he sympathized with Yprin's plight. It was the same plight that he shared. But now, he felt something that he hadn't done in years – anger. He'd ceased to be angry about the Flood, but a fellow human…that was different.

"This is my fault?" he whispered. "After all I've done, after all everyone else has done, after what _Forthencho _has done…this is my fault?!" He got to his feet. "You want me to save the day?! Well, I'm sorry, but I can't!"

"That's a lie."

The humans' eyes turned to the Florian. Old eyes, Akaash could see. Older than they had any right to be. Eyes that met his own.

"There's one solution," Upernavik whispered. "One that you postponed in putting forward."

"Don't do this," Akaash whispered. "Please…"

"Akaash, what is it?" Yprin asked. "If you know something-"

"Don't do this," Akaash pleaded. "Upernavik, I'm begging you…"

"I don't care," the Florian said. "For over twenty years Akaash, I've been in this fight. I've watched us lose. I've been informed of a moment that may seal all our fates. Your solution may be the only thing that allows our species to survive."

"It's not a guarantee, it-"

"Akaash, if you don't spit it out, the only guarantee is that the only way you'll be leaving this room is with a broken neck!" Yprin yelled.

Akaash glanced at Upernavik. He refused to meet his gaze.

_Bastard._

"Well?" Yprin asked. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than the situation we're already in."

Akaash sighed. He pressed his palms against the table and lowered his head. He couldn't remember when he came up with the idea. The moment of realization had been horrible that he'd erased it from his mind. Horrible that he'd even considered it. And horrible that it could work. And as data streamed from his palms, as a new hologram was displayed, he realized that none of its horror was lost.

"Gene warfare," he whispered. "We fight fire with fire."

Yprin stared at the data. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaash saw Upernavik bury his face in his hands.

"The Flood rewrites our genetic code to its advantage," Akaash continued. "So we deny them that asset."

"We've been denying them assets for years," Yprin murmured.

"I mean something more cost effective. We take the human DNA sequence. We alter it to it becomes poison to the Flood. The hosts are consumed, yes. But the Flood biomass is destroyed in the process."

Yprin studied the data. Akaash looked at her. She…seemed to be actually considering it.

"Can it work?" she asked.

"I…well…"

"It can," Upernavik murmured. "At the cost of one third of the human population."

To her credit, Yprin became as pale as a sigma. For a moment at least. Her composure and colour returned almost instantly.

"One third is what it would take for maximum effect," Akaash whispered. "Billions of human lives to save billions more." He glared at Yprin. "That's a sacrifice I wasn't prepared to make."

Yprin flexed her fingers, staring at her hand. As if waiting to see when blood would appear on it. "Is this theoretical?" she asked eventually.

"Well, yes, but the sacrifice-"

"Don't talk to me about sacrifice Akaash, you're not in the position to decide who has to make it." She turned to Upernavik. "Suppose this works. How quickly could the Flood be eradicated?"

"Months, maybe years…of course, there's testing involved, but-"

"I need an answer. A definite one."

"Then I'm sorry," the Florian said. "But I don't have one."

"Fine. Then I'll get one."

Akaash felt that chill down his spine return as Yprin focussed her gaze on him. Even more so as she walked towards him. And as she talked, he felt like he'd gone into cryogenic suspension.

"I need an answer," she whispered. "So I'll ask you this question, and I want it answered simply – can this work?"

Akaash lowered his gaze.

"Can. It. Work?"

"Yes," Akaash sighed. "To my knowledge, it-"

"What is the margin of error in that answer?"

"I…um…sixty percent?"

Yprin closed her eyes. Akaash glanced towards Upernavik. He too had his eyes closed. The way he was seated, it was as if he never wanted to open them again.

"This question," Yprin whispered. "Is it…known…to you?"

"What?"

"Are you familiar with the data on a biological basis? Could you tell me everything there is to know about it off the top of your head?"

"I…well, yes, I guess."

Yprin turned away.

"But why? I can give you electronic data, but-"

"I'm not the one you have to give the data to."

Akaash stared at her. The tingle in his spine remained. And seeing the look in her eyes, he could feel that tingle spread through his entire body. Especially as her eyes locked in on his own.

"The question will be answered," Yprin whispered. "And to do that, it must be asked."

"Wh…what?"

"The Oracle," Yprin said. "The Oracle shall give us our answer."


	5. Ocean

_And thus, within these halls they walked,_

_To master, defeat fate._

_Questions asked and answers given,_

_They passed damnation's gate._

**Halo: Primordial**

**Chapter 4: Ocean**

It was night when they landed.

Akaash hadn't expected that they'd be landing at all. He'd expected that Yprin would take him to a teleporter, not the station's shuttle bay (not that he regretted that). But he hadn't imagined his destination either. Not this arena. Like a colosseum of sorts, like something out of humanity's early history from Erdra or Heian. A place where warriors did battle. Not a place where two apostles stepped down from a shuttle into the dust, the only signs of light being from the shuttle and stars in the sky.

"Huh," Akaash said.

"What?"

"Stars. I've lived on this world all my life. I don't think I've ever seen stars from it."

"Light pollution gets to us all," Yprin murmured, stepping beside him. "But this place is far removed from any place of civilization, as difficult as that may seem to believe."

Akaash looked around. There were a few gaps in the colosseum walls, and indeed, he could see no other signs of civilization, human or otherwise. The only signs that humanity even had a presence on this world were himself, Yprin, and the two soldiers coming to meet them from an arched entrance.

"Come," Yprin said. She began walking to meet them.

Akaash followed. He wanted to speak, but remained silent. Even as Yprin talked to the soldiers, as they nodded and let the two pass.

"Not much security," Akaash murmured eventually, as they approached the arch.

"There's no need. There's a no fly zone that stretches for miles, and that includes an anti-teleportation field. Hence the shuttle."

"But people might come here anyway."

"There's Precursor ruins all over Charum Hakkor, Akaash," Yprin said. "And unlike this one, many of them are open to public viewing."

Akaash bit his lip as they passed under the arch. Before them was a single lift with a single hard light control panel. The pair stepped onto it, and Yprin started fiddling with the panel.

"Can't you just press down?"

"No. Not unless you want us to be vaporized."

Akaash didn't. So he kept standing. Watching as Yprin manipulated the light to form a symbol. A circle with a line pointed downwards, with two curves extending around the core shape, nearly forming a circle of their own. It looked like a glyph of sorts, but not of human or even san 'shyuum origin. If anything, it looked like a-

"Forerunner."

Akaash looked at Yprin.

"Reclaimer," she said. "My little joke."

"Joke?" Akaash asked.

Yprin remained silent for a moment until the shape was completed. Instantly, the lift began descending downwards. And an instant later, the political and morale commander turned to her subordinate.

"There's things you must know, may not know, and both of those things are not to leave your mouth outside this structure," she said. "Am I clear?"

Akaash nodded. His throat felt dry. He wanted water. Food. Light.

"This structure is called Primus Ordin. First to Begin. And what it holds, I discovered it long ago, in a stasis capsule on a planet on the edge of the galaxy. I then transported it to Charum Hakkor and revived it, after we made this world are capital. Since then, it's…helped us maintain that status quo.

Akaash nodded. He felt faint. He stumbled, and Yprin caught him.

"Careful," she said. "It often has that effect on people."

"It?" Akaash whispered.

Yprin smiled, her visage like a daimon's in the gloom. "Yes, Akaash, _it_. Why did you think there are so few soldiers here? It's simple – we can't afford too much exposure."

"But, this place-"

"Is guarded. Mostly by drones. By minds that can't be…damaged."

Akaash coughed again. He felt faint.

"Relax Akaash, you won't be here too long. Only long enough for it to provide the answer."

"It. You keep saying 'it.' What is-"

The lift stopped with a sudden thud. Before them was a long corridor. Drones drifted through the air, providing the only source of illumination.

"Protection," Yprin said. "From it. For it. Sometimes, I don't know."

"But more than I do."

Yprin walked forward. Akaash tried to follow, but he only got a few paces before stumbling to the side against the wall, the stone cold and smooth. And wet.

"Yprin?"

"Oracle."

Her voice…it was like it was coming from another realm…another world…and when she steadied him to his feet, he felt like he'd been touched by something from the Glow.

"It's what we call it. A codename of sorts. And a reference to its function."

"Function?" Akaash rasped.

"Yes. We ask. It answers. But never completely. And not always usefully."

Akaash kept stumbling. Yprin, holding him firmly, kept him moving.

"You're feeling its presence," she said. "Mitigated by a timelock we installed around the stasis capsule."

Akaash nodded before his head sagged. He coughed. Blood fell onto the floor.

"Be thankful for that."

"For…what…?"

"The timelock. If you're reacting like this already, chances are you'd be bleeding out of every orifice if not for the technology I installed. All this?" she said, gesturing to the walls. "All part of a connection to the prison. The walls before the bars."

Akaash looked up at her. She looked down at him.

"You don't care," he whispered.

"Care about what?"

"About…about…"

Akaash tried to speak, but he couldn't. His muscles wouldn't allow it. All he could do was collapse against the wall as Yprin came to a final door. She stretched her hand forward. Hard light enveloped it, moving along her arm.

"You don't care…whether I…live or die…" he whispered.

"Not really." She glanced at him. "If it makes you feel any better, it's because when I have to care about every human alive or may yet live, I can't worry about the individual."

Akaash coughed again. More blood spilled onto the floor. One of the drones floated down and emitted a beam, sterilizing the surface.

"But," Yprin continued, releasing her arm, "I would still be grateful if you _do _live. Because if you can ask and answer the question, those lives could be saved."

"The…the question?"

The door began to hiss open. Air began rushing through. And…it bore a scent. Something ancient. Something _foul_.

"We call it the Oracle," Yprin said, helping Akaash to his feet. "But its correct name is the Primordial."

Akaash stared at her.

"So ask whether your plan for the Flood can work."

Akaash's head was spinning. His ears were ringing. His throat felt like it was on fire. His eyes watered.

And as Yprin led him into the chamber, as he beheld the thing before him, contained by a force field, held in the centre of the room surrounded by a circular walkway, his eyes widened as well.

"Oh my gods."

"That isn't your god," Yprin said. "But in a way, it has been mine."

Oracle. Primordial. Names felt irrelevant. Names felt meaningless. "It" was what Yprin had called the creature at first, and "it," Akaash realized, was a useful term.

_And thus the mortal comes before me, beneath chamber of stone. Offers flesh and spills his blood, and fear flows through his bones._

Akaash fell to the ground. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

_And fear becomes the fire, and onto earth his tears flow. Haunted by what he's seen above, and what he sees below._

And Akaash couldn't help it.

He screamed.

He screamed as he convulsed on the ground. He screamed as blood poured out of his nose. He screamed as he tore at his eyes. He screamed even as Yprin grabbed his arms, trying to save Akaash's sanity as well as his sight.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

Akaash didn't know if she was addressing him or the creature. But he still screamed. He still convulsed.

"Akaash, snap out of it!" she yelled.

His scream provided a response.

"Akaash!"

And then it stopped. The scream died in his throat. The blood stopped flowing. And his sight became clear. First, he looked at Yprin.

"Akaash, I've never seen this. Not a reaction as severe as this, so soon…"

And then he looked at the creature.

"Akaash?"

And kept looking.

It was like nothing he'd ever seen, and after seeing what the Flood could do to organic life, he thought he'd seen everything. Fifteen, sixteen metres tall, almost as wide…four arms, too legs. Flabs of skin extended from its body like an obese human, though even humans didn't emit clouds of dust from those flabs. And its head. Like an insect. Or a scorpion. Or like nothing else. Because neither of those creatures had a tail extending from their head.

_And at last he sees me, for what I truly am. But does he find salvation, or is he now among the damned?_

And its voice. It was everywhere. And nowhere. Just hearing it made his ears ache. And the sound, how his vision shook, how it became a shade of green each time he saw it…it was as if he could _see _the _sound_.

_And at last he hears me too, two senses out of five. But is it truth he hears from me, or does my voice belie?_

And Akaash realized one more thing. This…Oracle, this, _Primordial_…it was alien. Truly _alien_. He'd seen aliens before. He'd seen san 'shyuum. Forerunners. Flood. But they weren't truly alien. Not compared to this…_thing_.

He could see why Yprin had ordered him not to speak of what he saw. But he also wondered if he'd keep his sanity long enough for that to be an issue. And why, as he staggered to his feet and watched Yprin walk forward, why he wasn't already running for his life.

"You know why we're here," Yprin declared. "You've seen into his mind. You-"

"What are you?"

Yprin glanced at Akaash. He walked forward.

"What are you?" he whispered again.

"Akaash," Yprin hissed. "Not now. Not-"

"What are you?!" he yelled.

_The question has been asked, but an answer shall I bestow? And do you see me as your brother? Or shall you be another foe?_

"The Flood!" Yprin yelled. "Can his plan defeat the Flood!?"

"What are you?!" Akaash yelled.

"The Flood! The plan!"

"Tell me!"

_Questions asked and never answered, half-truths have I given. But this sight I see with interest, of people now so driven._

"Listen to me!" Yprin yelled, and Akaash wasn't sure if she was addressing him, or the creature. "Give me the answer!"

And the creature laughed. And Akaash trembled. And even Yprin stumbled.

_You have asked, and I shall answer. All three questions._

"Wh…what?" Yprin stammered.

Akaash glanced at her. She looked pale. Terrified. Whilst he himself felt…fine. Fine enough to walk over and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Yprin?" he asked.

"In rhyme," she whispered.

"What?"

"Rhyme. It always spoke in rhyme. Always half-truths, always riddles, always raising more questions than providing answers." She turned to him. "It never spoke like this until now."

Akaash licked his lips. It was true. And there was something else. It had mentioned 'three questions. The first, what it was. The second, could the Flood be defeated? And the third…the third…

_The third question is the first question. But you know the answer._

Four eyes met the creature's gaze. A gaze without any discernible eyes of its own.

_For twenty years I saw you. For twenty years, you saw me._

"What?" Akaash whispered.

_The pheru. From that day two decades ago, to the eyes of every infected form that has met yours, I saw you. Saw into you. Knew you._

"The Glow are you on about?" Yprin whispered. "They're Flood. You're a Precursor."

Akaash glanced at her. "A _what_?"

_Precursor. A name given to those who eclipse everything. A name given to those who were eclipsed themselves. A name given to those whose light can cancel out the eclipse. _

Yprin was shaking. Akaash could see blood coming out of her nose as well. He ran to aid her, helping her keep her feet. Then helping her sit down. And then ceased to help as he strode forward, before the gaze of the Primordial. A Precursor. A god.

"You said you saw me," Akaash whispered. "How?"

_This answer is for you, and you alone._

"Why?"

_The Mantle is yours, but it is built on perceived truths. The Flood is the test. The Flood are truth._

"What truth?"

_That I am Precursor. And I am Flood. There is no difference._

Now Akaash stumbled back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Yprin was staring up in shock as well.

"No," he whispered. "It can't be. It can't be!"

_I am Precursor. I am Flood._

"No! You…you can't be! You…can't be…those…things!"

_I am Flood. I am Precursor._

"No!"

_I am Primordial. I am Oracle. I am the Captive, the Beast, the Eternal. I am Creation's end, and Creation's beginning. I am salvation and damnation. I am one. And I am the same. And your last question I can answer._

Akaash blinked. Tears ran down his eyes. He could hear Yprin murmuring something. It sounded like a prayer.

_Ask._

He sat there.

_Ask!_

Akaash took a deep breath. The dust in the room went up his nostrils. And when he opened his mouth, the dust came back out.

"Can the Flood be stopped?"

_You already know the answer to that question._

Akaash coughed.

_But I shall provide it for you anyway. For I am the last Precursor. I am the first Flood._

Yprin let out a sob.

_And my answer is at hand._


	6. Epilogue: Depths

**Halo: Primordial**

**Epilogue: Depths**

_We meet again, young one._

Another meeting. And the last one. Though I suspect it already knows that. That's why it doesn't fall into insipid rhyme. Why it remains silent. Because it's spent this time telling me 'stories.' Accounts of the Flood, of humanity's aggression, all lies to hide the true reason for their belligerence – their very nature. Whatever truth may exist in these creatures my wife has found, it matters not - humans need no excuse to commit genocide. Likewise why I don't need to justify my actions to this abomination.

But I've come anyway. I have lost friends, and children. I have seen worlds burn, and the stars bleed. And for all that, I will not bow to the savage part of my nature. I will speak. And this beast will listen.

"We're sealing you."

It still sits there. Or stands, it's hard to tell given its size and dimensions.

"In essence, your circumstances will not change. Charum Hakkor is now quarantined, its people have been…dealt with. At the least, you can expect no worse treatment than us."

And still it remains silent. Through every visit it's prattled on, telling me the story of a group of humans who played with fire, and as far as I can tell, got burnt. Not that I expected anything else. Or would have done anything differently. I've burnt thousands of their worlds. I'd burn another two as easily as they killed my own kind.

"You won't see me again," I say. "I've asked questions, you haven't provided answers of use. So if you have anything to say, do so now."

And still it sits there. With the size of a war sphinx, but without any of its grace. I'm glad I have my helmet on. Protection from its spores and telepathy aside, I wouldn't want to give it any satisfaction.

"Farewell."

So I turn. Once I return to the surface, a Forerunner timelock will be activated. More secure than anything humanity could provide, and just as effective as keeping their prisoner. I walk, and the door to the chamber hisses open. Before me is a long corridor, bereft of any signs of life bar Sentinels. Replacements for humanity's own version of floating automata. For a moment, I consider yet another parallel between our species. And then disregard it – it's a reminder that I could do without. And to banish all thoughts of monsters aside, I turn back to another one. The monster I can't understand, or even be sure that it is a monster.

"What are you?" I ask. "Tell me that."

It still remains silent. It alluded that such questions had been asked before. And had not been answered. Or if they had, kept hidden.

"If you want silence, fine," I say, turning back to the exit. "But if you don't tell me-"

_I am the last of those who gave you breath and shape and form, millions of years ago._

I stop short. I turn. I stare.

_I am the last of those your kind rose up against and ruthlessly destroyed._

More lies. Is it in the creature's nature, I wonder? Or has humanity's own nature rubbed off on it? If it would only tell me what it is-

_I am the last Precursor._

What?

_And our answer is at hand._

What?

It sits there.

"What?" I ask.

It sits there.

"What?!"

It sits there. Prisoner. King. God.

It can't be true. Precursor…monster. Precursor…god. Precursor…creator. And this thing…claiming to be one of them. This thing…who the humans imprisoned. Precursors…gods who humans worshipped as well, believing that the Mantle was bequeathed to them, not us. Precursors…gone from the galaxy. And this thing…claiming to be one of them. Impossible. And yet, real.

I close the door. I walk forward. My eyes meet its gaze. Understanding. And I want more of it.

I am the Didact. Protector of the Ecumene. Defender of the Mantle. Voice for my people.

I'll have your answers.

I'll have all of them.

**The End**

* * *

_A/N_

_The writing of the previous chapter and epilogue gave me some pause, in that I was left with a conundrum. Go the full way in ch. 4 with the Primordial reveal, and thus effectively repeat the reveal in the epilogue, or leave the reveal to the epilogue but leave ch. 4 on a pseudo-cliffhanger. I went with the former option in the end because, let's face it, anyone could see the reveal coming in the first place._

_Anyway, that's that. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and special thanks to Garrett Post for letting me use his Primordial fan-art as the cover image. _

_Entering shameless plug territory, I've decided to try formalizing the process, so here's the obligatory "but wait, there's more!" blurb:_

_Current _Halo _stories on "to write" list: _Alpha _(adaptation of Nicole-458's role in _Dead or Alive 4_), _Sanctuary _(sidequel to _Halo 4_), _The Orion Chronicles _(collection of oneshots)_

_Current writing focus: _Elysium: Facing the Music

_Note (21/09/13): This story will be left as is despite the canon issues. My mistake was in thinking the Primordial was encountered before the Flood, that the Flood-human conflict ended much earlier than it really did. In canon, the Primordial was found only forty years before the end of the Human-Forerunner War, the Human-Flood War ending forty years before that. Ergo, the timeframe and context of this story is no longer applicable, and I can no longer include it in personal canon. This will be reflected on my homepage. _


End file.
